


Otherside

by dxntdxdrxgs



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Cinematic Universe)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Homophobia, M/M, Mental Illness, Multi, Possible Rape, Racism, just rude people in general tbh, possible self harm/suicidal thoughts, small town ideation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-05
Updated: 2017-08-05
Packaged: 2018-12-11 10:23:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11712459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dxntdxdrxgs/pseuds/dxntdxdrxgs
Summary: Bucky works in a small town, located off a big road and situated in a quaint Kentucky valley. He's a self-employed contractor, owning a business with his best friend, Steve, who also happens to be a rather flawed wingman.When the duo bid for a job with the city to build a new Stark industries road, Bucky has a run in with the CEO and scores himself a position as one of the most beautifully infuriating men Tony Stark has ever met.(Based on a real town and real events, minus the gay romance)





	1. PROLOGUE

**Author's Note:**

  * For [smileyiero](https://archiveofourown.org/users/smileyiero/gifts).



> hi so i based this off my own town and own experiences so !!! i hope you like it
> 
> also i'm gifting this to my best friend again because they can't say no to this ship if it's a gift

Bucky spit a bit, the sweat dripping down his face in rivulets that didn't care to avoid his chapped lips in the least— not that he necessarily expected it, but it would have been nice, at least in some aspects. It would have also been nice if Steve would get off his ass, but "running the equipment is hard work!" and he was instead laid back on the cold dirt while the August sun beat on Bucky's back and made his shoulder ache where his prosthetic connected to the tender, scarred flesh. He wore long sleeves, even in the summer heat, and a glove because, as Steve had been very receptive of hearing, a man with a high-tech prosthetic in the sleepy little town of Magoffin County would be big talk. Though, Steve figured that was a bit skewed for Bucky's ego, until he realized the young engineer had managed to literally make a high-functioning, semi-touch sensitive, metal prosthetic. And if he could bench press a car, well Steve wouldn't tell anyone, but he wouldn't really be happy about it, either. Especially considering that Bucky was more popular among their freelance peers than Steve anyway, which sucked in the contracting world. If you couldn't rely on your fellow labor men, then who could you rely on? 

"Come on, Stevie," Bucky panted, tossing an orange cone at the man as a school bus zoomed past and kicked up dust. Steve swatted at the air and scrunched his face up, and— "Christ, you big oaf, have you even got your glasses on? Didn't we just do a speech on safety goggles for the vocational students?" 

"Lies," Steve coughed, "I don't remember doing that." 

"Of course, because anything that I schedule is conveniently not something you're consciously present for, cool." 

"Chill, Buck, of course I remember. You're just pissed because I made Nat file the taxes this year." 

"Patty is a nice lady," Bucky deadpanned, shooting his partner a look as he went about busting up the edges of the spare blacktop to be repurposed, "she would've done it professionally." 

"For a price." 

"We have to support the little guys, Steve, or this whole goddamn town will go under," Bucky slammed his sledgehammer down and winced at the whirring of his arm's servos. "When was the last time you voted in a local election?" 

"What?" Steve scoffed and tossed his keys back into one of the dump trucks, "you know the same guys always win." 

"Maybe they wouldn't if you'd vote!" 

A car zipped past and kicked up some tar-sludge that hadn't yet dried, making the black goop stick to Bucky's dirty uniform. He grumbled and slung his reflective vest off to the side, eyeing the men working on the support system for the new bridge. The town was being turned upside down by the newly funded four-lane road tearing it in half. It was taking out so many local businesses that were now being forced to sell to giant corporations; Stark Industries was funding the road project, hoping to open up the secluded town as a transport city for its weapons, seeing as how the valley would provide cover from enemies and isolate an accidental explosion. Which, when finally revealed by the mayor, had enraged everyone who ever sat in local office, but the deal had been signed long before that and wouldn't be amended. Bucky and Steve, a pair of construction contractors, business partners, decided the best way to make sure people didn't die was to be hired in and micromanage nearly everything; it wasn't explicitly in the job description, and they'd only bid on the job as a benign way to get involved in local politics, but Bucky saw it as singlehandedly saving the town. 

Steve really didn't care, except Sharon worked some days. She was a pretty, young protege who'd been sent down to monitor the progress of the road, sent straight from Tony Stark himself. Bucky didn't like her, because, for one, she was bringing out the young and rebellious side of a Steve. The unfaithful side, for lack of a better word, and when Bucky had been forced to lie right to Steve's wife's face, well, he hadn't been happy. Natalia was his friend. 

"They say Stark is supposed to be here any minute," Steve redirected, reminding Bucky of his pension for avoidance, "supposed to give us a pep talk." 

"Stark can kiss my bleached asshole," Bucky snapped, throwing his hammer down and yelping as it slammed back into his forehead. He grunted as his ass made contact with the dirt. "That was Stark's fault." 

"...Right," Steve nodded, "so, will you be civil? The guys are gonna make you talk, seeing as how most of 'em don't have a high school diploma or way of understanding anything that guy is gonna say." 

"Goddammit," Bucky grit out, "why can't you do it?" 

"Cause I ain't gay." 

Bucky waited for a further explanation, but there was none. "And?" 

"Well, he likes guys, and the boys figured if you, y'know, wooed him, he might give us all a raise?" 

"I'm not whoring myself out to a CEO so they can go rot their jaws out with tobacco!" 

"That's low," one worked quipped, picking up Bucky's hammer as he went. The latter didn't protest. 

"But cancer rates aren't," he snarled, spinning back to Steve, "and neither are the chances that I'm gonna beat your punk ass." 

"I'm not asking you to, y'know—" 

"Sodomy!" one of the younger workers cut in, looking proud of himself, "jeez, sir, I hope I ain't offendin' ya. That is the right word, ain't it?" 

Bucky stared at the high school drop out. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Sure, kid. Sure." 

"Does that make sodomy a verb?" the kid asked curiously. His name was Bud, a 'youngun' trying for his GED soon. 

"No, Bud, it doesn't," Steve muttered, "please don't eavesdrop." 

"But y'all was yellin' bout Mr. Barnes bein' a homosexual, so I was wantin' to show him I was supportive." 

Bucky knew that, from an outsiders' perspective, the kid would appear totally rude and insensitive, but that wasn't the case at all. Bucky knew the family, he'd been at his Baptism, and he knew the boy was making his best efforts to be open minded, despite being raised in an evangelical family that forced him into an Ol' Regular Baptist church. The entire town was Christian, save for the few Catholics, and many of the older folks either hated Bucky or loved him and tried to "save" him from sin. Kentucky was situated right in the middle of the Bible Belt, so Bucky counted himself lucky for just being alive. Whenever he traveled upstate to Louisville and other big cities, he always found himself floored by how open he could be. He could attend Pride festivals and hold boys' hands, unlike around here, but here was home, and if Bucky went home to a husband every day instead of a pretty Southern Belle, then he didn't think it should matter. But, ultimately, it did, and so the kid's attempt was sweet and he appreciated it, because the pure ignorance of it gave him hope. An uneducated, forced-Christian kid who wore camo, hunted deer, and chewed 'baccer could accept Bucky with open arms, and that was a truly heartwarming feat. 

"I'll talk to 'im," Bucky relented, "but it don't mean I'll fuckin' like it." 

"Isn't that your entire life's motto?" Steve joked, earning himself a glare. 

"When we get in the truck tonight I'm going to slip Rohypnol in your drink and drag you on Booger Hill an' leave you there," Bucky pointed. 

Steve's face screwed into a pained expression and he shook his head quickly, "Buck, you can't, that's where the teens go to party and fuck like rabbits." 

"An' they wonder why the fuck our teen pregnancy rate is s'high," he shook himself off and moved toward he and Steve's truck, stripping off his jumpsuit and tugging a clean shirt over his white A-tank. He slipped a clean pair of sweatpants on too, making sure the door and side of truck hid him completely, for his arm's sake. He couldn't give a damn if they saw his ass. 

He strode back out and talked for a while longer, smacking Steve when he pulled out a pack of cigarettes, screeching about his asthma for a good ten minutes. Just because he'd bulked up and gotten healthier, that didn't mean he could throw it all away, and Bucky was quick to remind him that he'd lay him out if he even tried. 

By the time noon rolled around and the sun was really high in the sky, the helicopter finally landed. Bucky figured it was mighty hot in there, seeing as how it was jet black, all sleek and rich. It made him dread talking to the guy a little bit, but he managed to push his stiff body off the truck and make his hair lay down a bit so that he might look presentable enough for Tony Stark himself. He'd be lying, too, if he said he wasn't scared, because this was his job on the line here, but it was also his team and his community, which was a lot to count on. 

When the billionaire stepped out he was wearing a hard hat, which made all of them look around and snicker. "Sir, that ain't regulation," Bud had slurred, and the guy looked pretty appalled. 

"Of course it is, Bud," Bucky said, motioning for everyone to put theirs on, "we run a safe job site, here. Thank you for... Gracing us with your presence." 

Steve kicked him in the shin, "stop being an ass," he whisper-yelled. 

"What brings you down to Magoffin, anyway?" Bucky ignored Steve, hoisting his hands to rest on his hips as he cocked them. 

"Just wanted to make sure everything was going as planned, you know, myself." 

Bucky almost gagged at his posh accent. 

"So, ya don't trust your subordinates?" 

He felt offended when Mr. Stark seemed shocked that he even knew that word. 

"Not that at all. But, I'm sure you don't know what running a company is like." 

"Oh, I'm sure I do," Bucky chuckled, walking closer, "but see, 'round these parts, we don't take kindly to outsiders coming and, how do you say... Butting their ignorant asses in when they don't know anything about us." 

Mr. Stark frowned, "I'm not the ignorant one." 

"Sir," Bud cut in, "Mr. Bucky has a degree in mech— mechanic, uh..." 

"A masters in mechanical engineering," another worker finished, "reckon he's smarter than the whole lot of us here. Prob'ly smarter than your whole staff. Now, not to sound cocky, but I'd rather y'all not insult our boss." 

Mr. Stark seemed taken aback, tossing his hard hat in Bucky's direction. Bucky would admit that, yes, the man was really attractive. Attractive in the "never done a day of manual labor" sort of way. All slender and untouched, unlike the ruffians around here. He wanted to beat himself up for finding the man hot the moment the thought crossed his mind, but there was no reason in denial or lying to yourself, or so he'd been told, so he didn't. He caught the hat and flinched when his arm made a rather tell-tell noise of mechanical nature. But Mr. Stark didn't bat an eye. 

"My mistake. Mr..." one of the Stark interns rushed over to show him a roster of names, "Barnes, is it?" 

"Depends on whether I like ya or not," Bucky glowered, "for you, yes." 

"Flattered," Mr. Stark flashed a grin, "see me to lunch, would you?" 

Bucky fumbled for a bit, almost dropping the hard hat. "I'm sorry?" 

Bud jumped around excitedly, "sodomy!"


	2. ONE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony makes Bucky an offer he can't refuse. 
> 
> Bucky sorta tries but it doesn't work. 
> 
> And anyway, he'll do anything to keep his home together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm afraid this is super short but i thought i had to end it when i did for chronological shit and stuff so !!! tell me what you guys thing, comments and kudos are always appreciated <3

"You... Can't be serious," Bucky blanched, eyes widening a little, "you're shittin' me, right? It's the heat gettin' to ya." 

Mr. Stark walked a little closer, shaking his head, "no, it seems you and I have a lot in common. A lot to discuss, don't you think?" 

Bucky blinked. Was this guy serious? 

"Go, Buck, I'll hold the fort down 'til ya get back," Steve waved, wiping the sweat beading across his brow. Bucky shot him a look because, really, he didn't wanna fuckin' take the guy to lunch. But, he was pretty...

"Fine, but I'm driving." 

"Oh, yes, this won't end in me being murdered in a small town and dumped in a ditch," the CEO grumbled, following behind with some distaste. 

The truck came into view and Bucky realized there were probably a thousand old bottles cluttering the floor, all clogged with cigarette butts and brown sludge from Bucky's attempts at saving the environment. It really wasn't working, but he gave himself an A for effort and even opened Mr. Stark's door, not missing the look of utter disgust that crossed his face. 

"You're a mechanical engineer and this is the best you can do?" 

Bucky snorted, "you're the one who cuts my check, buddy." 

Mr. Stark hesitated, before nodded and making a mental note. "Would it be insensitive of me to ask how much I'm paying you?" 

Bucky struggled with the old 2000 Dodge Ram, finally getting it to pull out and onto the road. He slammed his hand onto the dash when the AC acted up, which in turn made Mr. Stark flinch, and Bucky didn't find himself being too fond of that. "Barely minimum wage. But hey, I bid on this job, so my fault, right?" 

"Maybe a bit." 

"Right," Bucky chuckled darkly, "I know the sheriff. I won't get a murder charge." 

Mr. Stark gripped the sides of his seat, "you can't be serious..." 

Bucky glanced at him, before laughing, "no, I'm not."

He set about turning the radio up, some local preacher screeching about damnation briefly. He knew the small town probably scared the CEO to death, which made Bucky fucking ecstatic. He wanted the man to pull the road project completely, hell, he'd find the guys some work and pay them himself, even through his struggles. When he and Steve had a bankruptcy the first time, Buck had taken the blame for it and heeded all the costs and bad credit that came with it. Even so, he was far too generous, or so he'd been told. 

"So, any reason you wear the gloves, cowboy?" 

"Jockey," Bucky said humorlessly, "should see the town on Derby Week." 

"Right, thank you for avoiding your boss' question." 

"That's pretty damn presumptuous of your city slicker ass," he gripped the steering wheel and cringed when his arm whined. He needed to tune the son of a bitch up soon. "I don't answer to you." 

"Thought I was the one who cut your checks," Mr. Stark bit back, smirking and all proud of himself to the point that Bucky wanted to vomit. 

"Sure." 

"But really, why?" 

"Don't like touching people," he shrugged. 

"Uh huh," the CEO leaned back and looked out the window, smiling as the turn signal was flipped on. An authentic small town pizza parlor. "Can't feel it with a prosthetic though, can you?" 

Bucky's foot twitched in shock and he spun gravels as he pulled into the lot, coming to a screeching stop in shock. He looked at Mr. Stark with wide eyes, watching as the man extended his left hand. Bucky wordlessly surrendered it, letting the glove be slipped off his metal fingers, preening himself a bit as the man made a noise of admiration and shock. Yes, good, Bucky could use a nice stroke or two to his ego. 

"This... This rivals Stark tech, you genius," he said breathlessly, "I don't know if I want to fuck you or punch you." 

"If you pay for lunch, your chances are pretty good," Bucky joked, paling a bit as they made eye contact. "No one can know." 

"Why's that? This shit is— it's revolutionary, Mr. Barnes!" 

"Yeah, so let's just bring the revolution to Magoffin County, right? I don't think so. I'd lose my standing, I'd be a freak, and these kids I run... Mr. Stark, someone like me doesn't function in the big city; I don't even function in crowds and I reckon getting chased out of town by curious drunkards and evangelical preachers would be pretty fuckin' terrible." 

Mr. Stark paused. "Good point. But, can I make you an offer?" 

Bucky scoffed, "does it involve money?" 

"Yes." 

He was already out of the truck and opening Mr. Stark's door. "Lead the way, your highness." 

\-----

The pizza was amazing, and Bucky had even let Mr. Stark try a bite of his onion rings. Homemade and damn good too. The small restaurant had obviously been remodeled recently, complete with new siding on the walls and a brand new paint job. Sports memorabilia from the local high school team decorated the walls and the back opened up with two giant sliding barn doors to more quaint, intimate tables. Right now, the waitress was stumbling her way through asking the CEO for a selfie as Bucky tried not to get too much grease on his reapplied gloves. 

"So, this offer...?" 

"I want you to help me manufacture Stark weapons, like business partners." 

"Already got one of them, sir," Bucky took an unceremonious gulp of his beer, "and I ain't in the market for another. Besides that, me workin' on the road that's already destroying our damn town is damage enough. D'you know the people who've lost their homes? Their jobs? All because you think this valley is isolated. Do you care 'bout the collateral damage you're causing?" 

Mr. Stark bristled. "You are the most bipolar man I've ever met." 

"That's rude to bipolar people!" Bucky snapped, leaning back and taking a breath, "I'm sorry. My emotions have been everywhere lately. The road and the town crumbling is a bit stressful. Not that you would care." 

"You make me sound like a monster," Mr. Stark cried, sitting his pizza slice down to the greasy plate, "of course I care about—" 

"—money?" 

"People! I care about people, and that's why I want you to work with me. These people trust you, and making you the face of aid in weapons production will set everyone at ease. If you give them reassurance, then you're like... Like a..." 

"Manipulative business man who relies on false advertisement? Sorry, didn't mean to namedrop ya." 

"Do you want to help your town or not?" Mr. Stark snapped, raising his eyebrow. He watched the whirlwind of emotions flicker over Bucky's face. He fished in his jacket pocket and drew out his checkbook. "First check to split for your workers. Put however much it will need for them to get a nice cut, and to cover your flight to New York." 

"You really are deaf," Bucky grit out, "I told you I don't do big cities." 

Mr. Stark paused, "alright then, I'll stay here." 

"You? In a rat motel? Lovely imagery, I must say." Bucky sat his beer down and sighed, worrying his bottom lip for a minute. He relented finally, drawing the checkbook toward him as he set about filling one out. "I'm gonna regret this, ain't I?"


	3. TWO

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky relives some not-so-pleasant memories and goes to his new boss for a work distraction. It goes better than planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi hi hi so there's mentions of csa and abuse/alcoholism in this chapter so if that triggers you please don't read!

Bucky keeps his gaze low when he enters the church, falling in step with the congregation flowing in and kissing cheeks, all smiles and happy claps on the back. Bucky finds that he sticks out, but here he still is, a new church in the middle of town, directly across from the court house, his head ducked and his metaphorical tail tucked between his knees. The guys had been happy about the check but Bucky hadn't been, and he felt constant guilt nagging him when he thought about what Mr. Stark— Tony, he'd been told to call him —had asked him to do. Making weapons didn't seem that odd, it didn't seem like a terrible thing on the surface but when you looked deeper... 

"Let us pray," the preacher said softly, and Bucky dropped his head. He let out a sigh through his nose and bit and picked at the inside of his bottom lip. He was sure the anxiety was gonna kill him before his smoking did; if the way his stomach was churning right now was any indication, he'd be dead by morning. 

When he lifted his head the little lady beside of him gently laid her hand on his shoulder. "It takes courage to denounce the sin within you, Mr. Barnes." 

He scowled briefly, but replaced it with somewhat of a grimace, faking a business call and getting the hell out of there. Another church that he could never show his face in. He didn't know why he still attended services when he was a self-proclaimed agnostic, but he felt like if he didn't go just a little he'd be letting his father down. He shuttered at the memory of all those drunken nights and fights, yet still, deep down, he started to understand his father more than he did resent him. Nothing would ever excuse his actions, but Bucky found that his young self was often too quick to scream and get upset. Nothing his father did was ever his fault, it was his father before him, and even though that didn't make it right, he still loved his father. Loved the good times. 

He leaned back against the white plastic rails as he fished around in his pocket for a cigarette. He was kicking at a brick in the old sidewalk, the stupid stylized sidewalk from the early 50s that the whole town had insisted be kept. The concrete around the brick wasn't even new, and briefly he wondered where exactly their tax dollars were going if not there, and he inhaled the gray smoke in as he thought. It burned deep in his chest but he didn't find a piece of his brain functional enough to care, not right now. He should've known better than to try and sneak his way into a Baptist church, given the fact that everyone in town knew him. The prodigal gay Barnes son that came into class drunk in high school. But, oh, he was a business man now, and he needed to fix the cock-loving aspect of himself and he'd be the perfect bachelor! 

He accidentally bit through the filter, gagging and spitting it to the ground with disgust. Perfect. Everyone in the consignment shop across the two lane street had seen it. That poor Barnes boy, why, he walked right outta that church! Bless his heart... Bucky scoffed and stubbed the cig out with his heel. He often wondered what kept him here. Maybe it was Steve, or his separation anxiety that extended to his childhood property; whatever it was, he wished it had stopped. He wished he wasn't angry or anxious in big crowds. 

He wished that well hadn't blown up. 

He flinched at the memory and took a deep breath, launching himself from the wall as he crossed the street. He let his feet carry him where they wanted, knowing that his subconscious would bring him to whatever distraction he needed. Usually it was guys in their early twenties, all bicurious and attending the local college. They were a nice distraction, but nothing more, because the second their mommies asked they were straight in every sense of the word. Straight A's, straight-edge, straight... Bucky didn't know why he was throwing himself a pity-fest either right now, considering that he should be happy. He was partnering with the CEO of a big company and helping build weapons that could wipe out the entire continent. 

Brilliant. 

He felt himself still as he looked up. Motor Line Motel. Well, that was definitely not where he expected to be, but he realized what his brain was implying as soon as he spotted the flashy car in the parking lot. Several of the kids who were fresh out of church stood around it an awed. Bucky smiled at the little girls in dresses and boys in suits probably snagged from the Wal Mart the next town over. It was kind of enduring to see, considering most of them would never leave the Appalachian Valley, and he gently pushed past them but then paused. 

"Y'all know where the rich guy who owns that is roomin'?" Bucky asked. A snarky little girl stepped forward. 

"My momma says not to talk to strangers." 

"Mine too," Bucky smiled, offering them a five dollar bill, "go get y'all some ice cream or somethin'." 

One of the little boys recognized Bucky, eyes widening as he beamed up at him and extended his small hand. Bucky whistled low, taking it. "Strong grip, what Southern charm you have!" 

The little boy giggled and took the money, "thanks, Mr. Barnes!" 

He straightened himself up and watched as the kids ran off, making their way over the grass mound dividing the motel parking lot with the McDonalds one. He chuckled at their enthusiasm. He remembered running around the town when he was little and he let the happy memory stay in his good graces for a bit before he entered the front office. He smiled at the woman standing behind it. 

"Hi, Anne," he leaned against the desk and pushed his hair behind his ears, offering her a smile that would make anyone melt. She rolled her eyes at him fondly. 

"Hello, Bucky, what can I do for ya?" 

"Where's Tony Stark's room?" 

"I can't jus' offer that info up to anyone," she warned, "but, since I know ya ain't a freaky perv or murderer... Room 266." 

"Thanks, sugar," he drawled, leaning across and kissing her cheek gently. She blushed and swatted him away, muttering something akin to 'flattery won't get ya nowhere.' 

He walked back out and up the side stairs, peeking out at the darkening sky. The motel was only two stories and had 30 rooms at most, which made him laugh when he thought about the numbers beginning in the 200s. All the doors led directly outside and the balcony overlooked the parking lot, giving a stunning view of the new Marathon station across from it. A work of art, truly. 

He knocked on the door, hearing muffled noises behind it as it was cracked open, the chain still in place. Bucky raised an eyebrow at Tony's ruffled hair and the fact that he was shirtless. 

"Oh, Mr. Barnes, it's just you," he unlocked the door as someone shouted 'wait!' 

And suddenly, Bucky was face to face with his old youth pastor. The man was closer to Tony's age and gay as hell, but he hid it well around town. He was disgusting and if Bucky wasn't so terrified when he was a kid he would've reported him after he... He couldn't bring himself to move as he stared at the man wide-eyed. "I see you've already began your... Conquests." 

Tony frowned, "We fooled around, yeah, you two know each other?" 

"Bucky was my star pupil in youth group," the man smiled, making Bucky's eye twitch and hands clench. His day just kept getting fucking worse. 

"Get out." 

"Excuse me?" 

Bucky remembered being young and naive and getting coerced by a man with pretty blue eyes and blond hair and now he saw him around town, with kids, everywhere. He just wanted to forget him and he wasn't going to let him interfere with his work life. 

"I said get out, ya damn pedophile," Bucky hissed, finally stepping forward. Tony looked mortified and turned to the guy, who had turned beet red and bolted. "Really? You've been here a day and you're fuckin' the town kiddy-toucher?" 

"I didn't know," Tony groaned, "oh my god, that's so fucking disgusting. Why hasn't he been arrested?" 

"Cause he hasn't been caught," Bucky shut the door behind him and took a deep breath, trying to calm down and recover. "I never told a soul, and so help me if you do—" 

"No," Tony held his hands up in surrender, "Mr. Barnes... Bucky, I wouldn't. We might've gotten off on the wrong foot, but I wouldn't stoop that low." 

"Save it," Bucky waved his hand and walked over to the kitchenette, turning on the coffee pot. "We're business partners. I've had a shit day so I reckoned we could draw up some blueprints or some shit, I don't know." 

Tony tugged a shirt on and set about straightening himself and the bed up, "yeah? Yeah, that works. I was actually about to call for your opinion on the casing for the new ballistics." 

Bucky nodded absentmindedly and turned around, leaning back against the counter. Tony watched him like he was a ticking time bomb, a look that Steve also held from time to time. He didn't like it but he also didn't feel like arguing after the whiplash inducing day he'd had. Instead, he just really wanted coffee and a distraction; a good ass nap or a good ass fuck, either one. But the latter was unobtainable right now so he'd settle for whatever he could get. 

"Say, the casing on your arm," Tony motioned vaguely, tablet and pen now in hand. He looked back down to write on an onscreen application. 

"It's steel," Bucky supplied, turning around and replacing the filter as he put in the cheap coffee powder. 

"Doesn't that hurt? Like, the weight of it?" 

"Hurts like a son of a bitch," Bucky laughed, "most of my nerves got singed in... Well, it's not comfortable, I'll tell ya that. But it can sense heat and cold and it's water resistant." 

Tony nodded thoughtfully. "The ballistic casings were also made of steel, but I wanna change that to something lightweight. The most durable substance ever." 

"Vibranium." 

"Straight from Wakanda," Tony smiled, opening his arms wide, "feel free to hug me." 

Bucky smiled genuinely at that. "Y'know, Stark, maybe we'll get along." 

"Maybe," Tony nodded, "hope so." 

"So what about you," Bucky asked, pointing a spoon at Tony's chest as he brought out a mug and poured himself a steaming cup of coffee, "what's the Arc Reactor made of?" 

"Arc Reactor," Tony said smugly, a pleased little smile working its way onto his face. Bucky rolled his eyes again. 

"Sure. So, we're both amputees." 

"Um... Yes? What are the amputee guidelines?" 

"Funny," Bucky muttered, moving to sit on the hard, cheap carpet near the coffee table. He sat his mug on it and stretched, looking up at Tony. "Well, let's see the prints. Give me a distraction." 

For the first time, Tony really looked at him. Bucky was a beautiful man. He was masculine with soft eyes and a pretty-boy face that could make anyone melt. Tony wondered if it was against company policy to sleep with subordinates. Then again, hadn't he just admitted to being sexually assaulted as a child by a one night stand Tony had just picked up? The town really was tiny, he realized, sitting down a little guiltily. 

"Vibranium is in short supply, at least in the US, but the—"

"The Wakandan variety has a really unique ability, due to its purity, so the investment would be to source it directly." 

Tony agreed quickly, "I was thinking the same thing." 

"Not only that, but it's a bit stronger and less susceptible to enemy use. We can patent a hidden stress point that has to be activated in order for the missiles to detonate," Bucky said, taking an ink pen and biting the cap off. He began scribbling down on a pad of paper. "I'll get our file for patent notarized with Lee in the morning. I know 'im, he ain't gonna charge me. Then you can send it off and we can start working on the first prototype." 

Tony looked at him in awe, "I think I want to marry you." 

"Honey, you can't afford a cowboy like me," Bucky shot back without missing a beat. 

"Thought you were a jockey, Barnes." 

"Ah, you do listen," he grinned, "I'm flattered." 

Tony smiled back and leaned over the table, the two men getting caught up in rapt conversation over the new weapons. Bucky let the anxiety he held about the arrangement earlier melt away as he talked to the man. Tony wasn't so bad. A little pretentious and stuck up, definitely, most definitely, but it wasn't unbearable. 

He was griping about the small motel when a knock for room service came at the door. Bucky excused himself to the bathroom as the teen came in and collected towels, gushed about how much she admired Stark tech (she had a Stark phone!) and then left. Only then did Bucky reappear, sitting down and praying Tony wouldn't question him. It seemed like the universe hated him, though, because Tony stared at him curiously. 

"Why'd you hide from her?"

"She'd assume we're sleeping together," Bucky shrugged and looked down, "I already get enough shit for being the town gay, I don't need 'em sayin' I turned you queer." 

Tony put a hand on his hip and scoffed, "I will stand in the middle of a court session, or better yet, the bell tower! I'll stand atop the bell tower and scream about my bisexuality. I worked so many years on accepting myself, I don't give a damn what people say." 

Bucky stared up in awe, nodding slowly. "So, ya ain't ashamed to be seen with me?" 

"Funny," Tony tossed a pen at him, "don't be presumptuous!" 

Bucky scoffed, "is my boss mocking me?" 

Tony smiled a bit, "maybe." 

The two fell into a comfortable silence after that, and Bucky was thankful. He guessed this could've been worse.


End file.
